 | Mary Stuart |  |
SCENE THE FIFTH.
Mary, Bothwell.Ma.
Hard to endure! Well do I know her hate
257
And honour her delator. With new arts
She now assails me. Recommends the good
That I may do it not. She asks of me
To grant a toleration to the sects;
Then, that I persecute them, in her heart
She wishes. She dissuades me from divorce;
Ah! then she hopes to hasten it. I know
That much as ever sceptred mortal err'd,
She wills that I should err. With her own arts
I shall know how to parry her attacks.
I will, by granting her dissembled wishes,
More and more torture her malignant heart.
Both.
Thou know'st I said this to thee, when thou deignedst
To unfold thy thoughts to me. Henry should not
Now be remote from thee for various reasons.
Whether his menaces to quit the realm
Be true or feign'd, thou ought'st to take from him
The means of doing it, by watching over him.
Ma.
The shame of such a flight would fall on me.
His throne, his son, his country, and his consort,
Quitting, and begging a precarious shelter;
Who that beholds him thus will deem me guitless?
I will not be a fable to the world;
Rather will I embrace the worst misfortunes.
Both.
Thou hast well chosen. Oh! were this the day
That full domestic peace return'd once more!
Since he to thy solicitations yields,
To which he hitherto was deaf, at length
Thou mayest hope.
Ma.
Yes, I would fain believe it.
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His past ingratitude, conducts him here.
He still will find me to himself unchanged:
And, if I see him penitent, disposed
To pardon all the past.
Both.
Ah! were he so!
Thou know'st full well how much I wish thee happy.
Ma.
The recollection of my debt to thee
Will never quit my mind. Thou hast avenged
The throne insulted by the foes of Rizio,
By their just punishment. I found in thee
A sure defender in the camp, against
The open rebels; 'gainst the hidden ones,
More despicable far, to me wert thou
A faithful counsellor within my court.
Thou hast at once contrived to disconcert
Henry's imprudent plots, and recollect
That that same Henry was thy sovereign's husband.
Both.
Fatal address! Ah! may there no more be
Occasion for exerting it!
Ma.
Ah! yes ...
If Henry hear me, and believe my love,
(Which he alone believes not,) I may yet
Hope for all happiness. The throne to me
Is far less precious than my husband's heart.
But let us hear him; I have hopes e'en yet:
Heaven may do much; fortune may be propitious ...
But where I would of counsel or address
Avail myself, thou more than other men
My projects canst promote.
Both.
My arm, my blood,
My substance, and my judgment, (if indeed
I be so gifted,) all, oh queen, are thine.
| Mary Stuart | |